


(no refuge found) no solid ground

by jdphoenix



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Past Relationship(s), Post-Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 14:23:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6662383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/pseuds/jdphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s a simple exchange, something you want for something we want.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	(no refuge found) no solid ground

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Aloe Blacc's "Ticking Bomb."

Coulson’s been getting desperate. It shows in the lines around his eyes and mouth and the increasing frequency of his visits. It’s only a matter of time before he breaks and sends Skye down, so when Grant hears light footsteps on the stairs outside, he expects it to be her.

It’s not.

Simmons is standing on the other side of the line, her knuckles white around the back of the chair Coulson dragged down here a week in. Her hair’s pulled back so he can’t tell very well, but he thinks it might be shorter. Her pale cheeks could just be down to her being here at all but that sweater she’s wearing is drowning her. She doesn’t look good.

“Simmons,” he says, stepping closer to the line with a friendly smile. “It’s good to see you. How have you-”

“You’re going to tell Coulson what he needs to know,” she says, “and you’re going to stop asking to see Skye; it’s not going to happen.”

Grant’s been trying, the last few weeks, to play up the guilt. He had fun his first couple months down here, messing with Coulson, but once that lost its novelty, he was still trapped in this cell. So he’s been trying to transition into a remorse play and Simmons is testing his resolve. She couldn’t even boss him around effectively on the Bus, does she really think she can do it _here_?

“I’m just trying to help her,” he says while he struggles to keep his friendly smile from showing his amusement. “She’s always wanted to find her parents.”

Simmons’ jaw tightens and she looks away. “You’re trying to manipulate her into letting you out - and, _again_ , it’s not going to happen.”

He drops his head forward. It should come off as shameful, but really he’s just trying to hide his amusement from the cameras. “It’s okay,” he says when he feels confident meeting her eyes, “I know it’s gonna take time before any of you trust me again, but I’ve got plenty of it.” He opens his arms wide. “And you will,” he promises. “You’ll see, I’ll give Skye all the intel she wants _and_ everything I know about her parents. That’s all I want, Simmons, to be able to help.”

She huffs out an ugly, dismissive sound that’s ruined by the tears he can see in her eyes.

“Hey,” he says gently, “did something happen? Are you okay?” Her words hit him again, her conviction that he won’t be talking to Skye. Ever. “Is Skye okay?” he demands, his voice going suddenly hoarse.

Simmons turns on the spot but he catches enough of her expression to know Skye’s fine. He steps back, sighing in relief. So it’s just Simmons then. Whatever this is, it’s about her finally getting up the nerve to face him.

He knew she’d be pissed - the way she looked at him in Cuba proved that - and it’s gonna take some time to work past that. Probably his asking for Skye isn’t helping but he’d hoped Fitz would smooth things over by finally making his move.

Her shoulders straighten and she very carefully and purposefully steps out from behind the chair. She reaches for the tablet controlling the barrier once she’s level with it and he sees there’s something in her other hand. Not a weapon - he thinks, but with FitzSimmons, who’s to say - just a piece of paper, slightly crumpled from how tight she’s holding it. She glances down at the darker side and something in her face twists in a way he doesn’t like at all.

“It’s a simple exchange,” she says, almost to herself, “something you want for something we want.”

“This isn’t about what I want,” he says softly but earnestly, “it’s about what’s best for the team.”

Her eyes slip shut and the hand holding the paper falls to her side. “Please stop. You lying doesn’t make this any easier.”

She steps closer, the paper fluttering in her shaking hand. “We want information, intelligence,” she says. He mirrors her, stepping up to the barrier until she’s close enough he could reach out and touch her if it weren’t between them. It’s strange but - he wants to. Something about how _cozy_ she looks in that sweater, not at all the perfectly pressed agent she was on the Bus.

Or maybe it’s just that he knows what it’s like to touch her. Not just friendly touches on the arm or shoulder, but intimate places, in ways that made her pant and beg for more. He’s seen her a lot less put together than this.

He curls his fingers in as the memories rise up. It was a mistake. A fun one, but still a mistake. Even if she never told Coulson - which he’s guessing she didn’t seeing as he’s still _alive_ and all - it’s still cost him; on the Bus he had Simmons wrapped around his finger, but now she’s down here threatening him.

Or something. She hasn’t done anything other than demand, actually, and he gets the feeling all of a sudden the other shoe’s about to drop.

She taps at the tablet screen and a hole opens at the floor. Then she bends, a little stiffly, to slide the paper through.

It hits his ankle and he reaches down to pick it up, ignoring the way she scampers back from the still open hole. It closes a moment later, just when he’s realizing the paper is meaningless. It’s some shitty photograph - too dark with static all over. It’s a mess.

“What’s this supposed-” he demands, but the rest of the question escapes him when he takes another look at Simmons. She’s got one lip hidden behind her teeth, her eyes on the floor to his right, and her free hand holding the hem of her sweater up under her breasts. She’s pregnant.

The first time Grant had to walk on the foot May nail-gunned - less than an hour after she did it because SHIELD’s just that nice - there was this feeling like standing in the middle of a waterfall. Water rushing down all around him, the ground at his feet unsteady and about to give way, his whole body at the mercy of the flow. This feels like that.

He doesn’t know anything about pregnancy but she can’t be far along - who’s he kidding, he _knows_ how far along she is, but still, seeing it is … He can’t think. He’s not even sure how he’s _standing_.

“You’ll tell us everything you know,” she says, her voice shaky but determined. She doesn’t look like she’s gonna cry anymore, but it’s clearly an effort to hold herself together well enough to look him in the eye. “You’ll answer Coulson’s questions and you’ll stop asking to see Skye. And, in return, you’ll be allowed to know how-” She drops the sweater so her hand can rest over the gentle swell of her stomach. He can see how much she cares for it in the curl of her fingers, the way her expression cracks. “You’ll be told how things are progressing.”

“By you,” he counters quickly. He knows it’s a sudden about-face but this is a plenty big bomb to justify it, even for his cover. “I wanna see you, so I know you’re okay. Both of you.”

She takes a half-step back and he’s not sure she even realizes she’s done it. “No. Coulson will-”

“ _Jemma_.” He knows this is it, his only shot. Whatever insanity possessed Coulson to allow her to make this play, it won’t repeat itself. If he doesn’t get her to agree to see him here and now, he’ll never see her - or their kid - again. “Please.”

He could try saying more, appealing to her better nature, but with the way she stumbled over her words earlier, he guesses she’s having trouble facing the fact that kid is _his_. Reminding her of the fact won’t win him any favors. But a heartfelt appeal might, so he holds her gaze and waits.

Her eyes skitter away from his, paying more attention than she needs to replacing the tablet on its stand. “Coulson will want to talk to you,” she says, her voice uneven.

“Jemma,” he says softly, a hint of pleading to his tone.

She makes him wait until she’s reached the stairs. Her shoulders aren’t hunched exactly, but it’s a near thing, and she doesn’t quite look over the one to meet his eyes when she speaks. “I’ll be back,” she promises.

Relief floods him, but the victory isn’t so much he doesn’t want more. “Tomorrow?” he asks.

She doesn’t answer, just hurries up the stairs and leaves him alone. He hopes she comes tomorrow.

Until then though, he’s got a picture to make sense of. He presses it out flat against the floor and examines it under the bright lights, trying to pick out the shape of his - his and Jemma’s - child.

 


End file.
